Second Chances
by ashhead
Summary: Instead of being thrown out of Starfleet after Caldick Prime, Tom Paris is goven the opportunity to repeat the academy. Whilst there, he gets a very unusual assignment. P/T
1. Chapter 1

_A/N- I've been watching Voyager repeats and have fallen in love with P/T again, and this story occurred to me. It's set 6 months after Caldick Prime, the premise being that instead of being discharged from Starfleet, Tom is given the option to repeat the academy instead. It is a work in progress, but I do have the rest of the story mapped out, although I may update rather slowly. Not sure if anyone still reads Voyager fanfiction, but I've certainly enjoyed writing it.  
_

Cadet Tom Paris took a deep breath and put on his smile, same as he did every day. Only today wasn't quite a normal day, today was his first day at Starfleet academy. Well, his second first day. Today he would enter Starfleet academy as a cadet for the second time in his life, two years after he had completed it, six months after he had killed four people in a shuttle accident on Caldick Prime.

He knew this was the only way he'd ever fly for Starfleet again, but still it cut deep. He'd completed the academy well enough the first time through, passing the courses he needed to pass, excelling in the courses that involved flying. Doing it through a second time wasn't going to change anything. And sitting in lectures with green new cadets was going to hurt. They were there because they were the best of the best. He was there because he had killed four people. Agreeing to it had prevented him from being cashiered out of Starfleet and ending up as a freight pilot, or worse. But it still wasn't going to be pleasant, hence the fake smile he was so familiar with nowadays.

His first task of the morning was a meeting with his assigned mentor for the next three years, the same mentor he'd had the first time through the academy, Admiral Hollis. Retired from command, he'd been teaching at the academy for twelve years, and he got all the awkward cases. Those who were brilliant but difficult would find Admiral Hollis on their case pretty quickly. Tom had been aggreived to learn that he had been assigned to him the first time round, not considering himself that difficult a person, but had assumed it had been his father's doing. Now he wasn't so sure.

Pulling awkwardly at the collar of his cadet uniform, six months out of uniform had left him unused to the restrictiveness around his neck, he walked into Admiral Hollis' office without knocking. The admiral was a close friend of his father's, and knowing his father Admiral Hollis had already been briefed on how to deal with Tom. Tom's father had been all for court martialling him and even having him thrown into prison when he'd found out about Tom's involvement in Caldick Prime, and Tom fully expected him to make his life in the academy difficult.

Instead Admiral Hollis smiled and said, "Ah Tom, ever the rebel. Do sit down." Tom sat down, suddenly uncertain. He'd come here with a defiant spirit, determined that his father's anger wouldn't put him off flying again, and he had, in truth, rellished the prospect of having to fight against something. This smiling man was something of a disappointment.

"I know, I know, I'm supposed to be terribly intimidating and lecture you on how irresponsible you were and how lucky you are to be here." Admiral Hollis met Tom's eyes, and for a moment Tom could see sadness in them, "But you know that already, you killed four people, of course you know that."

Tom found that he couldn't keep eye contact with the admiral, and squirming slightly in his seat, the best he could come up with was, "Yeah."

Sensing Tom's discomfort, the Admiral continued, "Well I'll keep this brief. You've done this before so you can do it again, if you want it enough." The moment broken, Tom could meet the Admiral's gaze again, and he did trying to convey just how much he did want to do this.

"If you manage to do this, and I think you just might, you're going to need a recommendation from me. No Captain is going to take on a pilot who's already killed people through their own recklessness unless I put in a good word for you. And for that I'm going to want some proof."

Tom didn't say anything, what could he say. The admiral was right, and he was prepared to do anything if it meant he could fly, the fact that he was here proved that.

Seeing the determined look in Tom's eyes, the admiral nodded slightly. "I don't know how much you know about the Maquis, but there's a lot of sympathy for them at the academy, and we're losing people to them, losing some of our best. One of our most promising commanders, a man named Chakotay, went over to them about a year ago, and he's been recruiting disaffected academy students. He's very charismatic, and he's snared a lot of our best people." The admiral watched Tom's reaction to this, there had been some speculation as to Tom's own loyalties when they had decided to offer him another chance at the academy instead of just throwing him out. But there was nothing there suggesting that Tom might be disloyal. The boy was a pilot, as long as he had something to fly he was happy.

"You might just be the best pilot we've had through here in a decade, but most of the people who get in to the academy are good. We've got an engineer here who's got the potential to be one of the best ever to graduate. She's quick on her feet, and very, very good at what she does. If we lost her to the Maquis she could be a serious threat, especially if someone like Chakotay got hold of her. And the way things are going at the moment, we're not going to keep her for very long. She's refused our offers of counselling, and we can't keep ignoring her behaviour, even with her brilliance. That's where you come in. She needs someone who can reign her in, and since you're going to have to be reigning some of your own extravagant traits in, you'll be the ideal person for the job."

It took Tom a while to take this in. He sat there looking at the admiral for a few seconds, before saying, "You have got to be kidding me. You want me to babysit some drama queen who you can't keep under control. Me? Tom Paris? I've got to be the worst person you could have picked to do this." Then, realising who he was speaking to, he added an uncomfortable, "Sir."

"She's got to be taught the consequences of her actions Tom, and I can't think of anyone better to do that than you."

Tom was about to protest this when the screen on the admiral's desk beeped. The admiral looked down at it and sighed. "Her names B'Elanna Torres, I'm sure you'll find her. You will do this Cadet Paris."

Recognising the tone of the admiral's voice, Tom reluctantly said "Yes sir." It wasn't an official order, but it may as well have been.

"Dismissed."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for all the reviews, I'm glad that there are people still reading P/T fanfiction._

B'Elanna Torres. No wonder the girl was messed up if her parents were weird enough to give her a Klingon name. Who would do that to their child? But then again, Thomas Eugene Paris, named after his great grandfather, the third Paris admiral, wasn't necessarily a whole lot better.

Tom was on his way to her quarters, having found it easier than he expected to coax the information out of the academy computers. He did wonder if perhaps he had a slightly higher security clearance than the normal first year cadet. Something to check with the admiral later, once he found the girl and figured out what he was going to do with her.

He wasn't the type to rush into tasks as unpleasant as this one was going to be, he normally preferred to drag his feet and hope that it might go away. But the first week at the academy for first years was set aside for orientation. Aside from his meeting with Admiral Hollis, he didn't have any orientation he needed to take part in, and as much as he had enjoyed it last time, this time he wasn't in the mood to socialise. So maybe this girl would give him something to do other than sit and stew over the past.

He made his way to her quarters fairly quickly, she was in one of the centre blocks on the campus, the one next to the one he'd stayed in. It was strange walking through the grounds, seeing cadets in their shiny new uniforms chatting. He didn't feel like one of them, he wasn't one of them. There was no one here he could stop and chat with. He was used to being the centre of attention, and walking through the campus knowing that there was no one here who would hold a conversation with him if they knew who he was was very daunting. Still, he was Tom Paris, and he had his well practiced smile to protect him.

He made it to the fourth floor and counted round to her room. For some reason, he hesitated before he pressed the panel to her door. Maybe the admiral was right, maybe he was beginning to consider the consequences of his actions. Before that thought could settle, he quickly pressed the panel. The last thing he needed to be doing right now was digging through his memories of Caldick Prime, he'd done enough of that to last a lifetime already.

"Come in," a voice answered. At least she was friendly, she hadn't even bothered to ask who he was. Maybe this wasn't going to be quite as bad as he had imagined.

He walked into her quarters and the only thought he had was that no, this definitely wasn't going to be as bad as he had imagined. She was tall with long blonde hair, and legs that didn't seem to end. She was wearing a very short blue dress that didn't leave a lot to the imagination. In short, she was gorgeous. And she gave him a good look up and down, finished with a flirty smile. "Sorry, I thought you were Suzie. Can I help you, Cadet...?"

"Tom Paris, " Tom quickly filled in, and from the fact that her eyes seemed to warm when he spoke, she definitely didn't know who he was, what he had done. "And you're B'Elanna Torres, right? Admiral Hollis sent me..."

Tom didn't get to finish his sentence, the blonde girl interrupted him, her voice thick with disgust. "Do I look like a Klingon to you?"

Slightly taken aback, Tom blustered, "Well, no, but these are her quarters, aren't they?"

Seemingly settled, the girl replied, "Yeah, I'm her roommate, Nicole. But she doesn't come back here much, mostly just to throw things or to catch up on some sleep. She's probably down in one of the engineering labs if you're looking for her." Then, with an appraising look, she added, "But you could join me for lunch if you like, I'm just going down now."

Tom grinned and shook his head, "Sorry, I've really got to find B'Elanna. But I'll catch up with you later." He quickly left, leaving her protestations hanging in the air behind him. It was a little rude really, but he'd not had a girl flirt with him since before Caldick Prime, before Sarah broke it off with him, and it just didn't feel right. Besides, once she'd learnt who he was she'd want nothing to do with him, no one wanted anything to do with him.

There was something in the way she'd said "Klingon" that hadn't sounded right either. He hadn't noticed it at the time, but replaying the conversation in his head he could hear somthing he didn't like in Nicole's voice.

Although, from what she said about her throwing things, perhaps she was justified. A Klingon, god, he really had been stitched up.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N- Sorry about the lack of updates, I've got a new job so I've been pretty busy. If you spot any spelling mistakes just yell because my keyboard is sticking and although I've proof read, I'm not sure I picked them all up.

The engineering labs at Starfleet Academy were not one of Tom's favourite haunts. He'd been in them only when necessary, and had found every experience in them to be unpleasant. It wasn't that he lacked ability, but he found engineers to be a frosty group as a whole, obsessed about "their" engines. And although he wasn't a bad mechanic, especially when it came down to anything from the twentieth century, he found the process of maintaining a starship far too removed from the physical. He just enjoyed making things go, smoothly and quickly if possible, he wasn't interested in the rest.

Engineering was, predictably, deserted, you had to be a special breed of engineer to be down in the labs during meet and greet week. He was about to give it up for the day and try again in the morning, maybe take her to breakfast, although he wasn't sure if he could handle live gagh first thing in the morning, when a angry shout and the clanging of metal against metal caught his attention. He turned the corner just in time to see a body roll out from under a workstation, followed by a lot of smoke. More curses were uttered, but a few taps on the workstation and the smoke stopped.

She turned around to pick up the wrench she'd strewn across the room moments before, and that was when he got a good look at her. Dirty, sweaty and with a nasty burn developing on her arm, she was definitely something else. And whilst the ridges on her forehead attested to a Klingon heritage, there was definitely something human there as well. Tom didn't even know that was possible, Klingon physiology was notoriously unique, they even had a second heart, 'just in case'.

As he took a measure of her unique composition, B'Elanna's stance became obviously more hostile, until Tom realised that he was in fact staring.

"This isn't a freak show," she said harshly, barging past him to pick up her wrench.

He bent down before she could get to it, handing it to her with a smile. "I'm Tom."

It was her turn to stare now, people didn't often attempt to charm her, her unapproachable manner putting off those who weren't put off by her mixed heritage. But her surprise didn't last long, she went straight back to her console and started tapping away. "I'm a little busy right now, you'll have to find someone else to share you're life story with."

He watched her for a second, completely flabbergasted. The skin on her arm had peeled away and blood was trickling down to her wrist, yet she was still tapping away on the console as if nothing was wrong.

"Come on, that needs seeing to, I did a field medic course, I can treat it for you."

She looked at him blankly, not understanding what he was getting at.

"Your arm, " he said, and was amazed when she looked wonderingly down at the burn on her arm, had she really not noticed it was there?

"Oh," she murmered, running the fingers on her good arm down the sides of the burn. And then, amazingly she said, "I'm fine," and continued to tap away on the console.

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her away from the console. "You are not fine, there's blood pouring from your arm."

She pulled away from him, screaming, "Let go of me," and knocking him to the ground in the process. Standing there above him, completely out of breath, and shaking with anger as much as pain, she saw a disturbingly familiar flicker of fear cross his face. Taking a deep breath, she tried to reign in at least some of her temper and stepped backwards.

After watching her for a second, and deciding that she wasn't going to take this opportunity to beat the hell out of him, Tom climbed to his feet with a groan. "Any idea where they keep the medical kit here?"

B'Elanna nodded, and lead Tom round the corner to the kit on the wall. Whilst he opened the kit and took out the dermal regenerator, she leant back against the wall, letting her eyes close for a second.

She didn't see the way his fingers twitched slightly above her skin, and by the time she opened her eyes his concerned gaze was replaced by a smile. "All done," he said, allowing his fingers to run the length of her newly healed skin before he returned the dermal regenerator to the medkit.

She jumped slightly at the touch, but if he noticed it he didn't say anything. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Thanks. I'm B'Elanna."

"Nice to meet you." Then with a quick glance at his watch, which was completely for show as he knew exactly what the time was, he said, "Fancy going for something to eat?"

Instantly suspicious, as she was of anyone who showed too much interest, B'Elanna immediately turned him down. "I can't." And then a little belatedly she added, "Sorry."

"Come on B'Elanna, you need a break."

"Sorry Tom, I really can't." Searching her mind for some excuse to get away from this disarming man, the only thing B'Elanna could come up with was, "My boyfriend wouldn't like it, he gets a bit jealous." She smiled at him apologetically.

Tom could see instantly that she was lying, not only was the lie a poor one, but the charming, and quite beautiful smile that she ended it with was completely out of character, even based on the two minutes he'd spent in her company. "Anyone I know?"

The only name that B'Elanna could think of was the name of the man she'd been speaking to for the last month or so, the man who'd offered to take her away from all this, and so she said it without thinking. "You wouldn't know him, Chakotay spends most of his time on board his ship."

B'Elanna watched the colour drain from Tom's face as she said this, and suddenly she felt as though she was on extremely shaky ground.

Tom just shook his head, he'd only met the girl two seconds ago, and already she was running off to join the Maquis.

"Bloody hell B'Elanna. The Maquis?"

And suddenly B'Elanna's carefully crafted walls of pain and anger, built on the humiliation and rejection she'd been treated to since joining the academy, came crashing down. He knew about the Maquis. Which meant he knew that she was going to leave the academy, and that he knew how stupid she was being. Never mind that he was a stranger, that she'd only met him minutes before, he must know what she was planning. All the fighting instinct that had been bubbling inside her moments before was gone, leaving her with the terrifying weakness she always faced when it went away. And so she did what she always did, she pushed him out of the way and stalked off down the corridor, struggling to keep her footsteps from turning into a run.

Tom watched her go, watched her speed up until she was running down the corridor. Turning back to where she had stood moments before, he saw a streak of red blood where she had leant against the wall. He ran his fingers down it, feeling the lingering warmth. Swearing, he pulled his hand back and then flung it against the wall, savoring the pain as the punch reverberated from his knuckles up his arm. Day one wasn't even over yet and already he had no hope of ever ending up as a pilot again, some crazy Klingon with some sort of weird penchant for pain and punishment had seen to that.

Suddenly Tom felt like going out and getting very, very drunk.


	4. Chapter 4

_Any spelling/grammar errors let me know and I'll change them, wordpad doesn't do those nice red lines when you've spelt something wrong. Thanks for all the comments, I'l glad that people are enjoying this._

She stepped off the transporter pad with a shiver, Marseille was colder than San Francisco and she hadn't brought a jacket. Thanking the officer at the controls, she walked out into the clear night sky with an almost full moon and off in the direction her console had told her he was. The increased level of access she had to Tom Paris's personal information confirmed what she had suspected, that he was another one of Admiral Hollis's minders assigned to keep her out of trouble. What didn't make sense was why Admiral Hollis had assigned this man to take care of her when he clearly couldn't take care of himself. A fact that was attested to when she reached his location, a cheap bar that had made itself up to be some sort of faux historical interest piece.

B'Elanna interest wasn't piqued though. The stench of stale beer and smoke that greeted her was unpleasant to say the least, as was the sight of Tom Paris with a leggy blonde thing in his lap, his hand inappropriately high up her thigh. Steeling herself against the image, she moved to interrupt them, she'd made this mess and she needed to deal with it before it got any more out of hand. She needn't have bothered being apprehensive though, Tom was on his feet before she even reached him, virtually knocking the girl on his lap to the floor. She didn't seem to be too peturbed by this though, asking "A friend of yours?" at the same time as Tom said, "B'Elanna," with a ridiculous grin on his face.

The blonde girl put some distance between herself and Tom, and said "It's good to see you again Tommy, take care of yourself." Tom took her hand and pressed it to his lips, and the said "You too."

Then Tom and B'Elanna were alone, standing in the middle of the room, and B'Elanna felt like all eyes were on her. She had to dig her fingernails into her palms to keep her hands from going to her ridges. "Hi Tom. I think we need to talk."

Tom nodded, still with that smile on his face, as if her coming was actually a good thing instead of an absolute nightmare. He indicated towards a booth in the corner of the room, away from some of the eyes she could feel watching her, and she followed him gladly.

"Sorry if I was interrupting," B'Elanna said as they sat.

"With Ruby? No, she's an old friend, from before..." Tom trailed off akwardly, leaving them sat there in silence for a few uncomfortable seconds.

They were interupted by a perceptive waiter asking if they wanted anything to drink. Tom looked questioninly at B'Elanna, who wanted to snap at him that no, she didn't want to sit here and drink beer with him, she wanted to know what he was going to do about what she'd told him. But she needed to keep him onside, so she smiled as sweetly as she could manage and asked for a beer. Tom followed suit, with an odd look in his eyes that B'Elanna couldn't read.

"So, can I expect to be court martialled tomorrow, or do you need more evidence?" B'Elanna said into the empty silence that had developed with the waiter's exit.

"Excuse me?" said Tom, just drunk enough that he couldn't quite catch on to what she was saying.

"Admiral Hollis sent you to spy on me, right?"

"Oh, the Maquis thing, yeah. Listen B'Elanna, just do whatever you think is right, there's no point trying to be something you're not."

B'Elanna got the feeling that he wasn't just talking about her situation, and she was confused. "So you've not told the admiral?"

"I've not told anyone, and I'm not going to," Tom said as their beers arrived.

B'Elanna knew she should just leave it at that, thank her lucky stars and get out of there before she changed his mind. But as she watched him gulp half his beer in one swallow, she couldn't just leave it be, it didn't make sense. "I don't get it, why not?"

Tom sighed, trying to think of some way of making her understand without dragging his own demons out for display, but he drew a blank. He drank the rest of his beer before answering her, watching the foam left at the bottom of the glass rather than meet her eyes.

"You've heard of the accident at Caldik Prime right?" B'Elanna nodded, she'd heard something about it, some idiot pilot had killed a bunch of people in a routine manuver. It had been all over the news, not because it was even remotely newsworthy, but because it involved the son of an Admiral. "Yeah, well that was me."

Then the pieces fell into place, and what he had said previously made sense. But he wasn't finished at that, when a wound was open, Tom Paris couldn't help but pick at it. "They said that if I could keep you in the academy that when I was done, maybe somebody might let me fly again. But what's the point? If you're not Starfleet material, then you're not Starfleet material."

This time B'Elanna knew that he wasn't talking about her, but she felt a certain resonance with what he was saying. She wasn't Starfleet material, she'd already had four disciplinary hearings and a suspension, and she didn't see things getting any better anytime soon. And although the temptation of working on some of Starfleet's most advanced engines was a big one, she wasn't sure that it was enough to make her fit in with their systems.

She felt some of the rage that had been bubbling inside of her for the last few months come to the surface. How dare Starfleet be so rigid and uncompromising when there was so much still to be learnt about the universe. How dare they advertise themselves as this all-encompassing, inclusive society of open minded individuals, when all they actually cared about was how polished your shoes were or the correct term of address for your superior officer.

Tom had been watching B'Elanna as she absorbed what he said, and his heart sank as he saw her expression darken. He waited for the angry condemnation, and he almost jumped out of his skin as her beer glass slammed down on the table. But instead of some scathing comment, instead she asked, "Do you want another?" And then despite himself, despite the darkness he felt pressing in from all sides, Tom laughed, an easy, carefree laugh that lightened his soul more than it had been since Caldik Prime.

Three hours later they stumbled into the darkness, leaving by necessity as Sandrine's closed for the night, rather than choice. As Tom tripped on one of the cobbles underfoot and ended up slamming into the pavement, he swore he'd never get into a drinking match with a Klingon again. B'Elanna called him a pig, but helped him up anyway.

As she did, he noticed that she was shivering. "Are you alright, you're shivering."

"I'm fine," she said, pulling away from his anxious grip.

"You're not fine, you're freezing," Tom said, those words annoying him more than the obvious lie they covered. He'd learnt in the course of the evening's drinking that B'Elanna was feisty, smart, and that their interests were almost completely diametrically opposed. And that there was a certain chemistry in the arguments this generated. But these words were defensive rather than engaging, and it reminded him of earlier in the day, and the oozing burn on her arm that she'd also insisted was 'fine'.

B'Elanna sighed, she was fine, or she would be if she wasn't so damn Klingon. "It's colder than San Francisco here, I guess." But she didn't object when he put his jacket around her shoulders.

They walked back to the transported pads in companionable silence, and in a few minutes they were back to San Francisco, and Starfleet Academy. Both of them became more adjitated as reality hit, and both of them noticed the shift in the other's mood. The silence became less companionable and more awkward as they walked back towards there dorms.

Eventually they came to the split in the paths between their different dorm blocks, and B'Elanna tried to give Tom has jacket back.

"Keep it for now," he insisted, "You can give it back to me later." She nodded, and said, "Thanks," in a tone that came out sweetly even to her own ears.

Tom reached down for her hand and brought it up to his lips. But B'Elanna recognised it as a move he'd made on Ruby earlier in the evening, and she wasn't about to let him do the same to her. Instead she pressed her body against his, savouring his heat, and brushed her lips against his.

"Goodnight Tom," she said, and turned down the path. She didn't have to turn back to see the smile on his face, she could hear it in his voice as he called, "Goodnight B'Elanna," after her. She went back to her own room with a smile on her face, reality could wait until tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

A/n just a quick explanation about the updates, i've got a new job and it's been quite stressful and i've had to do lots of overtime, hence the lack of updates. But i've got a new phone that i can post updates from, so hopefully there might be some updates a bit more frequently.

It was four days before Tom saw B'Elanna again. Whether it was because she was avoiding him or just because she was busy he wasn't sure, although he suspected the former. He didn't press the matter though, she had made it clear that she was heading for the Maquis, and he was in no state to convince her otherwise.

His banging headache when he woke up the next morning left him melancholy, and soon his thoughts were preoccupied with Caldik and the things he could have done differently, the things he should have done differently. He had really screwed up, and he hadn't realised quite how much until he came back here to this place full of people longing to have what he had. Even Torres with her attitude and her general disregard for everything Starfleet, even she was cleaner and more worthwhile than he would ever be.

He spent the next few days staring at a blank piece of paper, an apology to the families of those he'd killed. He had got nowhere, he wasn't sure he ever would. "I'm sorry" would never be enough, and he had nothing else to give. He was glad when the first day of actual classes came round to give him something else to think about. He selected flight as his major subject for the year, not that he thought he would have a chance to complete, but he might as well get some practice in before they threw him out and he had to convince some ferengi trader that a pilot who couldn't even land a shuttle on a planet without killing three people was worth hiring. On a whim, not even quite sure why it would ever be a good choice, Tom selected engineering as a minor. There were a few courses about engine efficiency and flight systems that he put his name against.

But before he could get to any of his chosen classes, he had to make it through the compulsory ones first, all scheduled early in the morning so that cadets wouldn't get out of the habit of getting up early the moment they left home. The physical training and combat classes wouldn't be a problem, nor would starship orientation, but it was diplomatic relations and basic protocol that left him dry. He knew the instructors of both classes, and knew they'd both joined his father in calling for him to be dishonorably discharged. As both classes were based around discussion seminars rather than lectures, Tom knew what topic was going to be top of the list in both.

So when Tuesday morning came round, he made his way rather hesitantly to the Kirk building, where most of the compulsory courses were held. Although he'd left with plenty of time to spare, the room was packed. Now he thought about it, he seemed to remember turning up half an hour early to his first lecture at Starfleet, and apparently the same thought had occurred to everyone else on his course. The only seats left were in the front row, so Tom wouldn't even have the opportunity to hide in the back corner and hope not to get noticed. Reluctantly he made his way to the front of the room, aware that as he did the conversations around him became whispers and that heads turned to have a good look at the killer from Caldik Prime.

Hoping that he hadn't turned quite as scarlet as it felt like he had, he took a seat between a vulcan and an asian kid. Dropping his bag under his seat he pulled out his notepad and tried to calm down. He had known this was going to happen, why was he getting so worked up about it?

He didn't get much chance to calm down though, as the vulcan to his right greeted him with "Good morning, Cadet Paris."

Wonderful, even the vulcan in the front row knew who he was.

The kid next to him, who couldn't look any younger if he tried, and who made Tom feel practically ancient, joined in, "Hi, I'm Cadet Kim, well, Harry. Do you guys know each other?"

Tom kept his mouth shut, although it didn't appear as though he was required to answer anyway, as the Vulcan replied, "I have not met Cadet Paris before, however his reputation proceeds him. He was involved in a shuttle accident, and falsified reports to diminish his own responsibility in the incident. When he admitted his part in the accident, he was stripped of rank, but was given the opportunity to repeat the academy. The student body currently holds the view that he shouldn't have been given this opportunity, although I personally believe that his being here shows great strength of character, and he is known to be an extraordinarily talented pilot."

"Gee thanks, I guess," Tom said, running his fingers through his hair, this was not at all what he needed.

"You are welcome, Cadet Paris."

Cadet Kim's enthusiastic energy fell only for a moment, and he seemed to entirely dismiss what he'd been told almost immediately. "So you're a pilot? I'm taking basic flight this semester, maybe you could give me some pointers?"

Tom had to laugh, "Sure Harry, why not." If he was still around then.

"If I may interject, Cadet Paris, might I also request some pointers, I am also taking that course this semester."

"It's Tom, and yeah, I'll give you both some pointers."

"Thank you, Tom. I am L'Tar."

The vulcan was unable to go any further as the instructor for this course, Admiral Dixon, stormed in with a greeting of, "Good morning cadets, former Lt Paris. For most of you this is a great day." His eyes rested on Tom as he said this. "I am assuming you have all done the required reading for this course, and as such we will begin with a discussion into the importance of accurate reporting. Imagine you had been in a shuttle accident, what do you suppose are the key elements of your report? Cadet Paris?" This was going to be worse than he could have imagined.

Two gruelling hours later, having had the details of his falsified report on Caldik Prime dragged up in front of his entire class, Tom shrugged off the concerns of Harry and L'Tar, promising to catch up with them tomorrow, and insisting to both of them that he was fine. He made his way back to his dorm room, wondering what the hell he was doing by coming back here.

When he got back, his computer terminal was beeping. Turning it on, he found a message from B'Elanna, asking if he'd meet her for dinner at seven. He sent back an agreement immediately, not sure if he was excited or terrified. She effectively held the keys to whether or not he continued at the academy, but he hadn't heard from her since she'd kissed him four days ago, and he really didn't know what to expect from her. At least he knew what he was doing here now, he was waiting for her, and he Would make his decision when she made hers. He had no other direction in his life right now, and so the tormented engineer was as good a guide through this mess as he was going to get.


End file.
